Comfort

There are two brown eyes,

Not gold like honey but,

Auburn like chestnuts.

A galaxy of autumn leaves.

He is my favorite season.

There are two ears,

They do not hear to reply,

Rather they listen to understand.

A living diary I tell my stories too.

He is my favorite confidant.

There are two strong arms,

Not massive or overbearing,

But comforting and secure.

A fortress I can conceal myself within.

He is my most trusted shield.

There is a smile,

Brilliant and inviting,

Pure and blinding.

A sight I hope to never lose.

His laughter is my favorite song.

There are two tiny feet,

Not like an infant,

But a toddler.

A loud noise I’ll stop hearing all too soon.

Her livelihood is my favorite show.

Two tiny hands,

Not too small,

But smaller still than mine.

A grasp I never want to let go of.

She is my favorite hand to hold.

Two hazel eyes,

Shimmering like gold,

Blazing with a fire.

A galaxy of water, earth, fire, and air.

She is the globe my life rotates around.

A place of comfort,

What might that be?

A couch or a chair,

Perhaps a bed with silk sheets and feather pillows.

Or maybe a best friend and loving child.

Two beautiful souls I could never live without.

To celebrate my comfort,

I must celebrate two, without which I could never truly be home.